walk past a devil child

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

"We can go and sit back down whenever you like," Danta promises, a little out of breath and all but draping himself against the butcher - until a pair of hands seem to have other ideas. Laughing at first and backing up a few steps, he's fully intending to tell the interloper that they are very sweet, but not tonight, when Asta goes ahead and makes that play for him. Giving a much different sort of vibe, he might add, one that has heat curling low in Danta's belly at the same time as he offers the other dancer an apologetic wink.

All but manhandled back against the butcher - not that he'll ever complain - he lets one of his arms loosely drape around the other man's neck, keeping them close enough to easily advertise that they aren't to be interrupted. "Mostly," he admits, the words uttered through a smile against Asta's temple, his free hand coming up to run his fingers through the other man's dark hair to help keep it out of his face. "Have you had enough? I doubt we're at risk of napping any more."

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //